


Things Unseeable

by astrolio



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Feels, Beautiful, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Boys In Love, Comfort/Angst, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Full Circle, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Romance, Rules, Sad Ending, Sad and Happy, Sad and Sweet, Summer, Summer Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29806473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrolio/pseuds/astrolio
Summary: “Maybe I’ll make it my mission to get you to see the colour red,” he decides aloud, and George quirks an eyebrow.“Knock yourself out, I guess.  Only red, huh?”DreamXD feels his cheeks heat up, and he straightens, drawing his hands back to his lap.  “Well, I mean -- I’ll get you to see all the colours properly.  I promise.”They link pinkies and shake on it.  George won’t stop grinning.Or, DreamXD falls for George over the summer but is unable to act on it because he's a mortal, instead showing his affection in different ways.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dnf - Relationship, dreamnotfound - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	Things Unseeable

**Author's Note:**

> plz read this: 
> 
> This is entirely based on DSMP!George and DreamXD. I don't ship Dream and George irl, I just saw the joking (?) lore that George did on his "THEY BANNED ME." stream and got inspired by DreamXD and George art on twitter. Apologies if there are any grammatical errors, I've read this over so many times that I just can't go through for one final checkup. DreamXD will be referred to as both Dream and DreamXD, but he's the same character throughout. I hope you enjoy!

He was like the colour red.

Bursting, blistering red. Red had never been a colour that DreamXD was all too fond of, but the way it bloomed across George’s cheekbones when he’d bring him dandelions or spoiled him with building supplies was so endearing it was impossible to not grow to love it. 

Monochrome beauty, that was what George was: dark hair, brown eyes, pale skin flushed with the pink of a sunburn, and maybe something else. Days of their long walks through the flower forests with the sun beating down on them as they picked bouquets to adorn his home would do that to his complexion. The walks were the highlight of Dream’s days -- linked pinkies, tingles flitting across skin that rarely felt such warmth, wide smiles and bursting laughter. 

They sit shoulder to shoulder now, resting in the shade of a tall birch tree. George tells a story animatedly, hands waving and voice rising with excitement as Dream listens. A smile quirks the corners of his lips upward, hidden behind his mask. 

George seems to be extra irritated today by the fact that he can’t see Dream’s expression as he reacts to the story, cutting himself off mid sentence and tapping a finger to the smooth porcelain.

“You know I wish I could see your face every day,” he mutters, and Dream makes a small sound in his throat. This topic comes up rather often, and while it can’t entirely soil his mood it does twinge his heart with disappointment.

“And _you_ know that you can’t.”

He didn’t intend for it to come out so bluntly, but George shrugs; he’s long past used to it. He traces his finger along the edge of the mask, and Dream lets him for a moment before gently grabbing his hand and pulling it back down into George’s lap. A small sigh escapes his mouth.

“Doesn’t stop me from wishing.”

* * *

For most of the summer, Dream and George enjoy each other’s company, spending the majority of their days together under the sun. Dream learns the exact sound of George’s snickers, he’s memorized the lines that scrunch around George’s eyes when he smiles hard enough that it looks like it hurts. He carefully stores the feeling of George’s smooth skin under his gentle fingers as he spreads sunscreen to protect its paleness. Usually it doesn’t stop him from at least getting a little pink, but Dream’s heard that sunburns can be dangerous, so he forces George to wear it anyways. 

Besides, he loves the way the cream lingers on the tip of his nose or ears, not entirely rubbed in because it goes unnoticed by the brunet.

They talk for long hours until their throats are hoarse and the sky is orange above them and their shadows elongate when they walk through the dark back to George’s house. They explore the forest, have fake battles where they swing sticks they find and compete to see who can snap the others’ first. They giggle and wheeze at simple jokes and pranks, they rest in the silence and the shade together, they tell each other small stories about themselves. They’re friends, and DreamXD wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Well, maybe he would, just a little bit. The way his fingers linger on George’s back when he’s already finished spreading the sunscreen and the warmth that shoots through his body and settles in the pit of his stomach when their hands nudge against each other isn’t something that friends do and feel. Dream figures that’s okay, though.

One evening, he and George are talking about Dream’s house. George is trying to guess where it is while his eyelids droop further and further, words broken up by yawns, each one closer to the other until he finally falls asleep. His breaths are even, and a sound so soothing that Dream could listen to it on repeat. He tilts his head back against the bark of the tree behind him and inhales deeply the fresh summer air of the evening.

 _I could get used to this_. 

* * *

Rainy days were less enjoyable for the two, but it wouldn’t stop DreamXD from visiting the little mushroom hobbit house. He knocks on the door, hood pulled up to protect his head from the cold droplets. George answers almost immediately, stepping inside to let him in without a word.

They sit by the fireplace at a small card table, rickety wooden chairs wobbling on the stone hearth whenever they move. The rain patters against the windows, drumming outside in a steady hum. Flames crackle, pop and burst, the tea kettle on the stove hissing as the water steadily climbs to a boil, but all these noises can be easily drowned out by the clear sound of George’s giggles. 

“No way you weren’t cheating!” protests Dream, throwing down his hand of cards playfully. George laughs even harder, spreading his own cards out onto the table for the other to examine.

“Whaaa-hat!” DreamXD wheezes, sifting through the pile. “This is ridiculous! I call for a rematch immediately.”

George rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you’re shuffling this time,” he says, getting up when the tea kettle starts whistling. They’re making hot chocolate, mostly for George because Dream won’t be able to drink it in front of him. 

While George’s back is turned, however, Dream snatches one of George’s cookies from his napkin, lifting his mask slightly and stuffing it in his mouth. It’s not often that he gets to have food like that, and he feels a little regret that he can’t savour it more, but George is already returning to the table with two steaming mugs in each hand. A beaming smile is on his face as he sets them down and inhales in satisfaction.

“I just might be the best hot chocolate maker of all time,” he brags, taking a cookie off his pile. The look on his face when he realizes one is missing is comical to Dream, who immediately bursts out laughing. George groans.

“I actually hate you,” he grumbles, which only makes Dream laugh more. He watches as George takes a sad bite out of one of the two remaining cookies. “This is outrageous.”

“They’re good cookies,” points out Dream, and George ducks his head. “Did you make them yourself?” 

A nod; his dark hair bobs. Dream resists the urge to reach out and ruffle it, knowing he’s already broken enough of the rules. _The rules_.

Every day he falls further for this mortal — and it’s the most painful thing he’s ever experienced, while simultaneously it makes him feel more whole than he’s ever felt in his life. Of course, he’s seen wars, losses greater than anyone in the server could imagine. Hell, the war between the End and the Nether was so devastating he still wakes in the middle of the night, cold sweat dripping down his back, heart pounding and head flashing with chilling images that he suspects could never truly leave him. 

And yet, somehow, not being able to confess how he feels to George, to himself, to anyone at all is what haunts his daily thoughts. It’s easy to succumb to the fearfulness of the memories in the dark of the night, when shadows close in on all sides, silence pressing into your head. But with George, his days are full. Warm, bright, exciting, and it’s the best days that his heart aches the most to spill its contents on him. 

“Dream?”

He startles, eyes focusing on his friend again. He looks slightly concerned, but smiles that soft smile that makes Dream’s chest pang when he successfully gets the immortal’s attention. 

“Yeah, George?” 

“Are we gonna start the next game?” 

Dream huffs out a quiet apology, nodding and finally starting to deal the cards between them. George smiles into the palm of his hand.

* * *

“Why do you visit me so much?” George teases, bumping his shoulder against DreamXD’s upper arm. Smile on his face, Dream contemplates his answer, eyes wandering around the trees surrounding them. 

It’s a beautiful day. Sunny, hot, yet a soft breeze tickles Dream’s skin and ruffles his hair. George is slightly pink from the heat, his neck and face shining with sweat, but he’ll be a lot cooler in a few minutes; they’re heading to the lake. 

Dream supposes there’s no harm in answering somewhat honestly, so he tells George a careful truth. “I like being with you.”

His companion grins, the smile lines around his eyes scrunching up. “No other reasons? You can tell me anything, Dreamie.”

A pause in which Dream’s shoulders shake with silent laughter at his tone and the nickname, then, “I bet it’s because you like _me._ ”

Dream splutters, though he’s mostly teasing back. “Maybe I take it back. This gets more and more unbearable by the minute.”

“That was so rude that I’m going to pretend you’re talking about the weather,” George quips, and Dream rolls his eyes. “Which, by the way, is perfect for going swimming.”

“Yes,” replies Dream slowly, cautiously, “which is what you’re doing.”

“Oh come on, Dream. You aren’t tempted to swim with me at _all_?”

Dream’s shoulders tense. _There it is_. The truth was, he wishes he could; it’s infuriating, not being able to do the most simple of things with George merely because he couldn’t show him his face. That was one of the main rules that any End guardian had to follow, though sometimes when he’s feeling more daring DreamXD wonders who’s even there to enforce that rule. _I could probably take them in a fight_ , he recalls George declaring once when he explained it to him. At the time, they’d laughed, moved on to other topics, but sometimes when he lies awake in his silent house in the middle of the night he wonders if that wasn’t such a bad idea.

Aloud, Dream says with an audible smirk in his voice, “I know you really want to see my abs, but no, George. Not happening.”

George bursts out giggling, stepping back as Dream cuts away another overgrown bush and finally reveals the lake. They fall into a comfortable silence, both admiring the place.

Willow trees lean over the edges, arms drooping in the water, which murmurs and bubbles quietly. Lily pads drift lazily in the sun, their pink flowers spinning and sending petals to drift on the surface. More flowers and an assortment of birch and oak trees line the lake, bees buzzing around them, birds chirping from their nests. It’s secluded, quiet, and one of the prettiest places Dream’s ever seen.

George pulls his shirt off and kicks his shoes away, wading into the water. A shiver makes him wince, and he gasps a little at the temperature of the water, causing Dream to laugh. “Is it cold?” 

The brunet nods gingerly, sinking lower into the dark water. Ripples dart across the surface, glinting in the sunlight. DreamXD watches, leaning against a tree with his knees pulled up and forearms resting on top, hands dangling. At least he’s in the shade, he thinks, watching George dunk his head under with a bemused smile. 

George pulls his head back up after a few seconds, flipping his now soaking hair out of his eyes, water streaming down his face and shoulders. It dribbles into the lake as he wades back to the shallower areas, plopping down to sit so the surface reaches his elbows. Another shiver runs through him.

“Hi, Dream.”

“Hello.”

And so they sit like that, talking, George occasionally splashing around again when he gets warm. Minnows dash around him, but he doesn’t mind; the only time he goes running and barrelling through the water toward Dream is when a dragonfly buzzes by his head. Dream doubles over, cackling until George starts dripping freezing lake water onto him. “Geo-oorge!” he wheezes, jumping out of the way. 

“Do you have a towel?” George demands, teeth chattering, hands skimming over his upper arms in a frantic attempt to warm himself. Laughter is still bubbling in Dream’s chest as he looks around, realizing he must’ve forgotten to bring it. He turns to tell George, but the words are blown out of his lungs when he sees him shivering and on the verge of turning blue, water streaking his skin, blinking his wet lashes whenever his hair streams it into his eyes. 

“Here, use my cloak,” Dream says apologetically, shrugging it off. The bare skin of his arms welcomes the warm breeze. George barely protests as Dream wraps it around him, his eyes flicking around, taking in the sight of Dream without the cloak covering him -- he’s still wearing armour and regular uniform under that, but he feels awkwardly bare. George smiles a little.

“What is it?” mumbles Dream, stepping back and watching the wetness bloom across the fabric of the cloak to avoid looking directly at George. A breathy laugh comes from the other.

“It’s nothing, just -- you look so normal,” he says. “Have I really never seen you without your cloak on?”

Dream glances back up, shrugging, suddenly bashful. “I guess not. … Come on, let’s get you back home so you can change into warmer clothes. I can carry your t-shirt.”

They walk in silence for a bit as George slowly thaws enough to create conversation. Still, the quiet is peaceful, and it settles comfortably between them in the meantime. When he finally speaks, the words are lighthearted, but Dream wonders if there’s a hidden meaning.

“What do End guardians even do?” he asks. “I mean, you’re here with me a lot of the time -- how much guarding do you even do?”

Dream glances at him, nudging at his mask with the back of his knuckles. “We just … protect the strongholds. The End is a dangerous place -- No one is allowed in, and if they somehow get into the stronghold, they’re not allowed out.”

George’s face lights up. “That’s pretty cool, actually.”

To be fair, it sounds a lot more important than it feels. He’s technically supposed to be there at all times, or at least nearby, but ever since he met George the idea of being alone for so long again feels unbearably boring. So he spends as much time as he can with George -- which the brunet finds very amusing, and will likely never cease teasing him about. Dream had never been one to make or have friends, which made sense considering … everything, but when he met George it was instantaneous. They fit together like glue. 

Sometimes George would tell him stories about his other friends. Sapnap, Karl, and Quackity, Dream recalls. George would occasionally bring up the topic of meeting them, saying he’d get along with them very well, but there’s always a strange look in his eyes that DreamXD’s never been able to decipher. He’s never asked either, because those just aren’t the type of things they talk about. Deep or personal topics aren’t ever mentioned, keeping their friendship rather surface-level feeling, but Dream often wishes for someone to sit under the stars with, someone to ramble with about slightly deeper nothings than the ones that are usually discussed. He wishes George could be that person.

George isn’t really that type of person, he thinks. Maybe he could be one day, but for now Dream will easily settle for the excited storytelling, recounted childhood memories, silly jokes, and the talks that settle on favourite colours or foods. 

* * *

The day Dream finds out George is colourblind, they’re sat together on the bridge right outside his house, feet dangling above the water as they watch the fish climb the waterfall. It’s early autumn, the leaves turning gold and red and every other warm colour DreamXD could name. Autumn is his favourite season. Something about the cloudy sky, the fresh chill in the air, the colours and smells. When he tells George this, his companion shrugs.

“I wish I could see the colours.” It’s said so casually that Dream only nods at first, then stops and furrows his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?”

“I’m colourblind, Dream,” George shares, looking slightly bewildered. “There’s no way I’ve never said that before.”

Dream’s jaw drops, sort of answering for him until he remembers George can’t see his expression. “I really don’t think you have. So … what? What colours can’t you see?”

George tilts his head, kicking his legs a little. “I’m red-green colourblind, so pretty much every colour that involves those two. I can’t see orange or purple or turquoise either, because y’know, cause and effect.”

“That’s …” Dream tries to find the right word, but George just snickers. 

“I’m used to it, of course. I do wish I could see all the colours you talk about, though. You sound so excited.” His voice is fond, but Dream is still hung up on the colourblind thing.

He shakes his head, somewhat amazed. “I never would’ve guessed, you know. Your favourite biome is flower forests, for god’s sake!” 

George laughs again, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile that reaches his eyes. A gorgeously warm brown, tinted like that because of the colour red -- which George will never be able to see. The thought unsettles him. George seems to sense his disgruntled manner and nudges his shoulder.

“Really, it’s fine,” he insists, and Dream leans back on his hands, shoulders falling back. He disagrees, wishing he could help. 

_He’s like the colour red to me, and he can’t even see how beautiful that is._

“Maybe I’ll make it my mission to get you to see the colour red,” he decides aloud, and George quirks an eyebrow.

“Knock yourself out, I guess. Only red, huh?”

Dream feels his cheeks heat up, and he straightens, drawing his hands back to his lap. “Well, I mean -- I’ll get you to see all the colours properly. I promise.”

They link pinkies and shake on it. George won’t stop grinning.

* * *

“George!” Dream bursts into the hobbit house, shaking the sludge off his boots. It had snowed lightly the day before, but was raining today, causing it to melt into a gross grey goop. The awkward time between winter and fall. 

“Dream? I’m in my room!” George calls, voice muffled. Dream hangs up his cloak and kicks his shoes off, something he’s started doing since the day at the lake. He’s also gotten to know George’s house a lot better -- the patterns of his clutter, easily avoided as he weaves through the house to the bedroom. He hovers at the door, wondering if he should knock when George creaks it open.

“Geor--” Dream’s voice trails off at the sight of his friend. He’s somehow paler than usual, but with an unhealthy flush in his cheeks and nose. There are bags under his eyes and his hair sticks up in weird places. 

“George, what’s wrong?” his voice is alarmed, which George laughs halfheartedly at. His laugh sounds different. Snuffly maybe? Is that even a word? 

“I’m sick, Dream. It’s nothing really, just a cold,” he explains, and Dream realizes why his voice sounds different. He’s stuffed up. Relief mixed with more concern courses through his body and he stands awkwardly still as George goes back to lie in his bed again, leaving the door open.

“Oh. Should I go?” 

George yawns. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You can’t get sick, right?”

Dream shakes his head as he steps inside, closing the door gently behind him. He looks around George’s room, suddenly aware that he’s never been in it before. There’s George’s bed, a high, small window above it, a desk with a chair and books stacked on top, a clearly handmade bookshelf stuffed with anything and everything, and a rickety wardrobe. The rug on the floor is soft under Dream’s feet. It’s overall pretty cozy, but nothing special. Dream prefers the rest of the house, which feels more personalized.

He takes the chair from the desk, setting it next to the side of the bed that George is curled up on. His friend is shivering, despite the blanket covering him up to his chin, and Dream wishes for any way to help at all. Instead he just sits, occasionally getting water when he’s asked for it, until he gets an idea.

“I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” he whispers, and George nods sleepily, his eyes squeezed shut. Dream presses his index and middle finger against his friend’s forehead, wincing at how hot it is. Hopefully this can help.

He heads to the kitchen and rummages through George’s cookbooks, finding a recipe for chicken soup. He’s heard stories of how when George was younger his dad would make soup for him whenever he got sick, and he figures it might be able to help in that case.

The only problem is that he’s never actually made soup before.

He’s looking around for ingredients with a sinking feeling in his chest when he finds a can labeled chicken noodle soup. Brightening immediately, he pulls it out of the cupboard and reads the information on the label.

“I just have to heat it up?” he mumbles. “Pretty convenient. I know how to heat things up.”

About half an hour later, he carefully walks back into George’s room, carrying a bowl of steaming soup. George is awake again and when he sees what DreamXD brought him his face breaks into a smile. He props some pillows up behind him, sitting up as Dream hands him the bowl.

“I hope you like it,” he says, settling back into his chair. “I just heated up a can that I found in your cupboards.”

George nods, inhaling deeply. “Well, I can hardly smell it, but I’m sure it’ll be delicious,” he declares, then glances up at Dream and examines him with some surprise. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Dream replies, fidgeting with a loose string on the comforter. A smile tugs at his lips, and he feels the urge to duck his head even though his friend can’t see it.

George has to let his soup cool a bit, so they sit and talk.

“I was wondering something, actually,” he muses, and Dream perks up, “You said you weren’t coming around today, that you were busy with something. Then you show up all excited, when it’s already getting dark outside. Why’d you end up coming?”

“Oh!” Dream tips his head back slightly, brushing his dirty blond hair out of his face. “I wanted to tell you that I think I have an idea for how I can get you to see colours properly.”

George splutters on his spoonful of broth, eyes wide. “Really? How is that even possible--?”

Dream smirks. “I mean, I _am_ almost technically a god.”

George’s eyes somehow get even bigger, which makes Dream burst out laughing, waving his hand and shaking his head. “I’m just kidding, I’m just kidding. You’ll find out soon, if it works.”

“I hope it does,” sighs George, sitting back with a small smile on his face as he watches Dream’s laughter subside. “You did pinkie swear, after all.”

Sudden shyness strikes Dream’s heart as an idea pops into his head. “I pinkie swear that I won’t break that pinkie swear?” he suggests, reaching out with the finger.

George rolls his eyes and they hook pinkies again, shaking on it, but neither of them pull the fingers apart when they rest their hands back on the blanket. They stay linked, Dream’s heart fluttering, butterflies crawling in his stomach. George’s cheeks are slightly pinker than usual, and Dream feels like he might just burst, a huge smile pulling at his cheeks.

When George finally falls asleep, he considers leaving. The room is dark, the light that had been previously coming in through the window having faded with the sunset. Dream carefully unlinks their pinkies, but George murmurs in his sleep and peeks open one eye in alarm.

“Where are you going?” he whispers, and Dream freezes. 

“Do you … want me to stay?” 

George’s cheeks flush again, but because it’s so dark Dream pretends not to see it. He nods, and Dream makes a move toward the chair, but then George shakes his head.

“You can, um, heh--” a giggle breaks up his sentence, and Dream laughs breathily too. His heart is racing, but he doesn’t really know why. “You can sleep next to me, if you want. I don’t want you to get cold.”

 _I don’t get cold,_ Dream thinks, but somehow finds himself next to George anyway, staring up at the ceiling through the dark, every nerve in his body tingling like crazy. George is already almost asleep again, but he rolls over to face the middle, mattress shifting and squeaking. Dream turns onto that side as well.

He’s right there, face starkly pale in the dark, breath shallowly escaping his mouth, methodical. Dream wants to reach out, gently trace the pad of his thumb along his cheekbones, over his lips, run his fingers through his hair …

But he can’t. So he lets his head fall back onto the pillow and he squeezes his eyes shut, inhaling deeply. _I should go._

* * *

He doesn’t visit George for a few days after he left in the middle of the night, but it’s not really his choice. He received word that someone’s been trying to get into the stronghold, so he’s confined to it for a while until the threat is over. While he’s there, DreamXD wanders the halls, picking through the dusty books in the library, doing anything to try and amuse himself. He sits on the steps of the starter staircase, glaring up into the ascending steps above him, examining the ceiling because there’s not really anything else to do. He swats at cobwebs and clears the place of mobs within a few hours.

He wonders if maybe it wasn’t an intruder, two days in. Maybe they found out he’s been hanging out with George, not doing his duties like he was supposed to. The mere thought of never being able to see George again, of being confined to this stronghold because of his twisting the rules, makes his heart drop.

Still, he wants to take advantage of this time alone. He spends a lot of his time researching colourblindness, the way it works, the way colour is perceived by the healthy eye versus the colourblind one. He’s well aware there may not be a point to all of this, but he wants to do it for George anyway. The way he felt when they wrapped their pinkies around each other … it was incredibly childish, but it made his heart stutter in his chest.

Dream trails his fingertips along the grout in the stone bricks, thinking of warmer weather, clearer skies. A book is open in his other hand, his thumb tucked in the fold, but he’s not really paying attention to it. It’s already been a week, and he’s starting to hope George doesn’t think he left him.

Nightmares riddle his sleeping mind, a mixture of the old ones among completely new ones starring George himself. Images of the brunet drowning, or fading away at his touch, leaving him behind. He’s getting used to the silence, and that terrifies him. He just wants to hear George’s gleeful giggles again. He just wants to see the blush on his cheeks again.

Another week later, he’s starting to feel like he left George.

* * *

DreamXD trudges through the forest, whacking weeds out of his way with his axe, dragging his feet a little in the snow. He’s excited to see George again, but also incredibly nervous. What if George has somehow forgotten him? What if George is mad at him, and doesn’t want to talk anymore? 

In his pocket are the colourblind glasses he successfully made, after at least a month and a half in the stronghold. He’s almost positive that it had been a punishment -- that the other guardians for the other strongholds found out. There were absolutely zero disturbances during his entire time at the stronghold, and he figures the time spent could’ve just been protocol, since he _was_ released with no issues. But still, a month and a half? 

When he reaches the clearing in the woods where George’s hobbit home is, he lingers at the edge of it, staying in the comfortable cover of the trees. His heart pounds with anxiety. He can’t help but feel like this is going to go poorly, but there’s smoke trailing from the chimney into the blue sky, a promising sight. With a long, deep, shaky breath, he reaches the door and knocks it.

A voice, coming from inside. “Just a second!” 

_George._

Dream shuffles his feet, twisting his hands. When George opens the door, they both freeze, staring straight at each other. George’s face is unreadable. The moment stretches between them.

“Dream.”

Finally, he said something. Dream lets out a long breath. “I’m back.”

George’s eyes trail all over him, taking in everything: the cloak, the snow-dusted hair, the boots, and finally the mask strapped tightly onto his face. “You’re back,” he echoes, letting go of the door handle absently.

“Can I come in? I need to explain,” asks Dream, and George hesitates, knuckles white where his fist is balled at his side. 

Then he nods, steps aside, lets Dream in. He takes off his cloak slowly, lining his boots neatly with the toes pressing against the wall. Seeing George so quiet and solemn unsettles him. 

George is waiting at the card table for him, shoving around the logs in the fireplace with a metal poker. There are two mugs of hot chocolate on the table, and Dream feels a pang of nostalgia in his chest as he takes his seat, watching George make his way around the table to his own chair.

As soon as they’re both settled in, DreamXD jumps into his explanation. There may be a note of desperation in his voice, but if George hears it he doesn’t react or point it out, only listens.

“I was called back to the stronghold under an emergency. Apparently someone was trying to break in, but when I got there, there was nobody. Still, I had to stay there for a month and a half -- it’s protocol, just standard protocol. I wanted to visit you so badly, I didn’t mean to leave you at all. I’m so sorry George.”

George sits back, shoulders sagging. His spoon twirls idly in his mug, pinging off the sides. “I see.”

Silence. 

“Do you?” Dream whispers, and George dips his head, finally letting the spoon sit still. “George, I didn’t want to leave you, I promise. I understand, okay? I know it really sucked, but it sucked for me, t--”

“You understand?” George interrupts, a bitter tone in his voice. “You _left_ me. You left me all alone, forced to deal with the aftermath of every shitty thing you did -- I had to sit in the memories and I had to realize that no one _trusts_ me anymore because of you, dammit!” His fist comes down on the table, Dream jumping. Spilt hot chocolate pools around the base of their mugs.

“What do you mean?” dread leaking through every word, Dream struggles to understand what George is talking about. “I don’t -- I don’t get it?”

Realization dawns on George’s face. “I …” he looks lost, lost in memories. Memories of someone else, Dream realizes, heart jumping in his throat and choking him. Choking his self control. _I think I need to leave._

“George, I don’t know who you’re talking about but I … I’m not them. I’m sorry that my actions, that my absence reminded you of them,” he says, voice hushed and raw. “I’m …”

George buries his face in his hands, pulling at his hair. “No, I’m sorry,” comes the muffled response. “Maybe we should, uh, just …”

“I’ll go. I’m really sorry, George. I hope you can forgive me,” Dream breathes, getting up shakily and tucking his chair in. “And I’m sorry that those things happened to you. I’ll …”

He doesn’t want to say that he’ll see George later because he doesn’t know if it’s true. They haven’t even known each other for a year yet, but Dream finds his heart feeling like it will be ripped to shreds if he never sees George again. Maybe it’s dramatic, that after just a month and a half apart from each other they feel like it’s never going to be the same, but clearly George is still hurting from someone else who left him in a similar way. Dream just wonders who, mulling it over as he grabs his cloak, blindly wrapping it around himself and shoving his socked feet into his boots, opening the door to the snowy woods outside.

It’s only after the lock clicks shut behind him, barely audible over the howl of the wind as a blizzard picks up that Dream realizes he forgot to give George his colourblind glasses. Back turned to the house, Dream unclasps his mask and stops in front of the mailbox, shivering although he can’t feel the cold.

“For you, George,” he whispers, the hinge squeaking as he opens the mailbox and puts the glasses case inside. “So you can finally see red.”

Then he flicks down the red flag, hoping George can receive his gift, his promise, as soon as the blizzard passes. Tying the mask back on, he takes one last look at the house before exhaling heavily and trudging back through the forest.

* * *

A few weeks later, when the world is just starting to thaw, the air smelling of spring and new leaves and melting snow, a letter finds its way to Dream’s house. The morning is bright but still chilly, the ground wet and squelching under his boots as he closes the door behind him, stretching his arms and looking around.

The flag on his mailbox is down.

His heart leaps in his chest, his hands trembling a little as he speedwalks across his lawn, cautious to not slip. With one quick motion, his mailbox is open and he’s staring at the white envelope. He reaches his fingers in and pulls it out carefully, fingers tracing the neat handwriting. There was a sender address -- he recognizes it as George’s -- but no address for the receiver. Just his name, DreamXD. 

In a sort of daze, Dream goes back into his house and sits down at the kitchen table with his letter opener in hand. “It’s just a letter,” he tells the silence. “Just a letter.”

So he grabs the letter opener and cuts through the seal on the envelope, carefully unfurling the letter inside and pressing his fingers to the folds, smoothing it out on the table. His eyes dart around the page as he reads it, marvelling somewhere in the back of his mind at how fitting George’s handwriting is.

_Dear Dream,_

_How are you doing? I hope you’re well. I’ve missed you, which is why I reached out. I want to apologize to you in person, if that’s okay with you. I know I really messed up, and it’s been eating away at me all winter._

_I also wanted to tell you that I received the colourblind glasses, and wow. Thank you so much for them. I probably cried the first time I put them on, if I’m being honest with you. The colours are so much more beautiful than I ever even imagined, and it’s all thanks to you that I got to see them._ ~~_I think my new favourite colour might be red._~~ _Sorry, I’m just rambling now. Not the point of the letter._

_I’d like to see you. If you want to see me, that is. I want to make it up to you. You can show up whenever, if you want. My door is always open for you._

_God, I really hope this reaches you._

~~_Yours always,_~~ _Sincerely,_

_George_

Dream is already almost out the door before he reaches the end of the letter, stuffing it in his cloak pocket when he finishes reading it, hopping on one leg across his lawn as he tucks his pants into his boots. His heart is racing, and he runs as quickly as he can through the forest back to the lands of the greater SMP. 

* * *

The sweet sounds of George’s giggles fill Dream’s ears as they lay next to each other in the grass, the warm air of the summer breeze sending goosebumps up George’s arms as it flows over them. Their shoulders are pressed together, just like that day almost a year ago, and above them the dark sky stretches on for miles. The stars are like spilled glitter, the moon glowing in the midst of it all. 

“Can you believe it’s already been more than a year since we met?” George sighs, and Dream feels a pang shoot through his heart. No, he can’t. It feels like it went by so quickly -- too quickly, he knows now, thinking about what has to happen tomorrow.

He’s hesitant to tell George. Every time he thinks about it, nauseating anxiety crawls up his throat and chokes the words on their way out. Logically, Dream knows he has to tell George, and that the worst of it all will be it actually happening, but his skin still prickles with nerves anyway.

“It’s crazy,” he agrees aloud, but his voice shakes a little. George murmurs next to him, nudging the back of Dream’s knuckles with palm. Dream opens his hand and George slides his in, and they grip onto each other like it’s the last time they’ll ever touch.

Maybe it is. Dream knows he’s probably holding on much harder than George would prefer, and the brunet makes a small noise in his throat, confirming it. Dream lets his fingers go slack. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay,” George tells him, turning his head slightly to look at Dream, a smile on his face. Dream feels sick. He knows he has to say it, so he takes a deep breath and sits up, shaking bits of grass out of his dirty blond hair.

“George,” he begins, voice tight, “I need to tell you something, and it’s really really really shitty.”

“Okay?” George sits up too, rubbing his thumb along the back of Dream’s hand. “You can tell me anything.”

“Okay. Okay. George, I have to leave tomorrow.”

George’s eyes widen, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead. His voice breaks a little, confusion and worry twisting it. “What? Why?”

A shaky breath expands Dream’s chest. “Because,” he says, “I broke the rules.”

George’s eyes darken, and he lets go of Dream’s hand, returning it to his lap where it sits perfectly still. George sits perfectly still, too. 

“So … that’s it, then?” 

Dream glances back up at George, but his eyes feel blurry with wetness. “I guess so, George. I’m … I’m so sorry. They’ve positioned me at a different stronghold, in a different world entirely. I don’t know if they’ll ever let me come back here to visit you. I just wish--”

George’s next action makes the stumbling words die in Dream’s throat. He brings his hands up, slowly, shakily, to Dream’s mask. He grips the edges, knuckles white. Dream can see George’s eyes closer than ever, all of the details and hidden colours that he usually doesn’t get to see. George searches with those eyes in the shadows behind the mask. 

“You broke the rules, right?”

Dream nods once, blood roaring in his ears so loudly that he can hardly think. He’s so close that Dream can feel his body heat, sending shivers up both their spines.

“I’m allowed to do this, then,” George breathes, and his hands let go of the mask, crawling to the back of Dream’s head where they find the clasp. His fingers stutter on it, and Dream squeezes his eyes shut when it finally falls off his face, the air brushing his cheeks.

“Why are you crying?” George realizes, his voice agonizingly soft. Dream shakes his head, and George brushes his fingers over his cheekbones, catching the tears before they can fall. 

Finally DreamXD opens his eyes again, taking in the sight of George in front of him finally without the mask’s small eye holes restricting his vision. And _boy_ , is he close. Dream inhales deeply, and before he can think about it too much he presses their foreheads together. 

“You’re beautiful,” George tells him, and Dream looks up into his eyes to see there’s tears in them as well. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“George,” whispers Dream. “George, I’m so sorry. I messed up. I should’ve never talked to you, it was a mistake, I’m going to hurt you --”

The words bubble in his throat with a sob, and George pulls away a little, shaking his head vigorously, pressing the palms of his hands to Dream’s cheeks. “I love you, Dream.”

Dream kisses him.

It tastes like sunburns, pink blush on pale skin, freezing lake water, hot chocolate, autumn leaves. It tastes like every good thing Dream’s ever known, he thinks, hands coming up to the back of George’s neck and pulling him in further, tingles shooting all of his nerves. It tastes like the colour red. 

When they pull apart, both of their faces are streaked with tears. “This sucks,” Dream mutters, and George laughs, hiccupping. 

“Heartwarming. Have anything else you want to say to me, Dreamie?” he asks, and Dream can’t help but roll his eyes at the stupid nickname. Still, a smile spreads across his face, the first smile George has ever seen from him. 

“I love you, George,” he says seriously, and George’s smile is so big it looks like it hurts. “I love you and I’m never going to stop.”

They fall back onto the grass, hands tangled together once more. The stars twinkle above, so far away. It hits Dream that the next time he sees the stars, they will be completely different ones. Ones from an entire different world.

“What’s your favourite constellation?” George asks, pointing up above them. Dream laughs.

“Okay, listen: I know it’s basic, but the big dipper,” he confides, and George giggles, his hand dropping back to his side. 

“You’re right, that is basic. Okay, what’s your favourite food?”

“Cookies,” decides Dream, and the smile that dawns on George’s face makes his heart squeeze in his chest. 

They continue talking like that, throwing stupid, lighthearted questions back and forth, answering them honestly and plainly. They lie in that field until the sky is painted orange, the moon and stars fading as the sun climbs up the horizon line. They stay there until George’s words are slurred from exhaustion, his eyes half open as he stares into Dream’s face, sleepy yawns chopping up his questions. 

The last question George asks is Dream’s favourite colour.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! was very fun to write. comment n check out my other works if u want :)
> 
> my twitter: @dwttunes


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